


But You're Just So Cool

by Rinbin



Category: Persona 5
Genre: Based on a Taylor Swift Song, Flirting, M/M, Pining, Song Lyrics, Songfic, hahaha couldn't help it sorry, he gets over it real quick tho, it's like 2 sentences and semi-vague, mild spoilers for how each character becomes a Phantom Thief, semi-internalized homophobia, sunset kisses, those gay thoughts caught ryuji guess ur not that fast bro
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-14
Updated: 2017-07-14
Packaged: 2018-12-01 22:31:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,031
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11496087
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rinbin/pseuds/Rinbin
Summary: They've gained a lot of things over their time together, but if you ask Ryuji the thing he’s gained most are feelings.And they effin’ suck, dude.(insp by Fearless by TSwift)





	But You're Just So Cool

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Fearless](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/306984) by Taylor Swift. 



> I was listening to TSwift (don't judge) and that "but you're just so cool" line reminded me SO MUCH of when Ryuji tells Akira that he's so freakin' cool and then the whole song seemed like it could fit these boys so I made it happen

_There’s something ‘bout the way_

_The street looks when it’s just rained_

_There’s a glow off the pavement_

He’s running through last night’s homework in his head: English, done, history, done, math...shit. Was there math? He couldn’t remember. If there was he definitely didn’t do it. Did he even have math today? Shit. What day of the week was it again?

Ryuji runs a hand through his damp hair, too lost in his thoughts to bother being mad he forgot an umbrella _again._ His mom even told him to take it, left the damn thing on the table for him, but he still forgot it. Also probably forgot his math homework. God, Ms. Usami was gonna kill ‘im. He’s already used about five of his “one free pass.”

Even though it’s early morning, the city lights shine in the gloom of a gray, stormy day. They bounce off the wet on the sidewalk, on the road, illuminating the world in a weird haze. It’s gentle too, though, not really like a drug-induced vision but more like a warm glow. Ryuji thinks it makes the world look like it’s just waking up too, like he still is, the world sleepy and hazy.

Everything comes into focus though when he sees the mess of blonde hair step out from under an awning and into a car. _Sharp_ focus. It’s Takamaki, an old friend--could he call her that even though they haven’t spoken in a year? He wasn’t sure--stepping into a car. It’s an expensive car, far too expensive for her parents, and Ryuji feels like he’s gonna puke: it’s Kamoshida in the driver’s seat. It’s gotta be. He jumps into action, chasing after the car with a raised fist, yelling about Kamoshida in the only way that makes him feel better these days. No one’s listening, no one ever is, but somehow the outburst calms Ryuji. It makes the pain and anger subside if only for a moment.

Ryuji feels a presence behind him and turns, surprised to see a boy standing before him in a Shujin uniform. He’s never seen the guy, but Shujin’s not exactly small, so it’s not entirely unusual. But then he asks Ryuji if he goes to Shujin...which, ya know, _obviously,_ even if Ryuji bends the uniform rule. He also doesn’t seem to know who Kamoshida is, which is next to impossible if you’ve ever been within a thousand feet of the perv, so it doesn’t take long for Ryuji to put two and two together.

The first two: this guy is new, a transfer, and obviously lost.

The second two: he’s looking at Ryuji with the softest, kindest expression that makes Ryuji’s heart flutters in his chest and _whoa, what the hell._

That doesn’t happen. Not even around Takamaki, who he was pretty sure he loved from grades 2 through 7. Ryuji’s heart hasn’t fuckin’ fluttered in...well, forever. Ryuji rolls his shoulders--it’s cool, it’s fine, probably just has to do with the atmosphere of morning rain, the glow of the street, and the fact someone is talking to him for the first time in _months_ without a sneer or attitude or preconception of who he is.

  
Yeah, that’s gotta be it.

 

_I wonder if you know_

_I’m trying so hard not to get caught up now_

Okay, well, that definitely wasn’t it, although it was definitely something too. Because it’s true: Akira didn’t talk to Ryuji like he was the black sheep of Shujin, problem child and Everyone’s Favorite Punching Bag. Even when Ryuji called them troublemakers after learning about his past, Akira smiles sweetly, like it’s something that now belongs to _them_ instead of the assholes around them. Whenever he’s with Akira, Ryuji feels like nothin’ bad can touch him.

That doesn’t stop him from wanting something _good_ to touch him, though, which is how he finds himself here, heart all a-fuckin’-flutter again, looking at Akira in the schoolyard. It’s been months since that fateful day in April where it all began: the metaverse, Personas, Shadows, shitty adults doing shitty things. In that time they’ve grown, both literally and personally, new friends and new wisdom and new skills so they can really pack a punch, but if you ask Ryuji the thing he’s gained most are _feelings._

And they effin’ suck, dude.

Ryuji was like, 100% sure he was straight until he saw Akira softly in the rain and it’s just been all downhill from there. Cause then there was Akira gettin’ Arsene and like, _you_ try to stay straight after that! And then there was Akira under the boot of a Shadow and Ryuji feels so much anxiety, so much frustration and guilt until Akira’s voice drifts over all the panic and darkness, over the black hole, where it finds Ryuji, bringing Captain Kidd along with it. After that there was Akira agreeing--immediately--to help Ryuji out with his old track team, even though Akira had no stakes in the game.

And after _that_ there was...well, almost everything. Arcade games (literally the only thing Ryuji was better than Akira at and Ryuji wore that badge with efifn’ _honor_ , dude), quiet afternoons reading manga together (Akira scowled when he read and it was very freakin’ cute), or training in the gym (Ryuji’s willpower was the worst at the gym, willing himself to _not_ look at Akira grunting and sweating and how his body was building but always effin’ powerless to the urge). Ryuji can’t help it, he tried so hard not to, but he’s practically _in love_ with his best friend and it’s wrong on a thousand different levels. Wrong because it’s a boy, wrong because it’s Akira, wrong because his stomach twists every time Makoto latches onto Akira’s arm, wrong because Akira would never be with such a loud, dumb idiot, wrong because all it’s gonna do is burn him in the end.

Still though, Ryuji’s never really been one to hold back, so he finds himself trying to vomit up the words to tell Akira he might like to hold his hand. _Maybe._ He’s not sure yet. Willin’ to try, though. But it’s no surprise when the words don’t come out right as Ryuji tells Akira that being around him makes him feel free. Ryuji practically dies right then and there; _free?_ You’re tryin’ to tell your best friend you’ve got the hots for him and the best you can come up with is “you make me feel free” like some sorta cheesy-ass romance novel?

Or even worse, Ryuji thinks, because it’s actually effin’ true. Akira makes him feel free, lightheaded and strong and capable. Ryuji ran track, he knows what it’s like to run so fast it feels like you’re flying, and _that_ kind of freedom doesn’t even compare to what Akira can do. Oh god. This is bad, this is so bad, Ryuji’s got it _bad_ like a schoolgirl crush.

He doesn’t know why Akira does it, asks him to repeat it _twice_ like the effin’ asshole he is, but Akira does and Ryuji’s blushing and fumbling and doesn’t know how else to say it now because it’s true it’s so true that it hurts and Akira’s expression is unreadable (as. fuckin. always.) but he’s smirking. Of course he is. The shit. So Ryuji stops himself, makes a dumb joke about records and changes the subject. That’s enough embarrassment for one day, thank you very much.

 

 

_But you’re just so cool_

_Run your hands through your hair_

_Absentmindedly making me want you_

 

He’s half aware of the way he stares at Akira; everyone else is like, 200% aware of it. Ann corners him at lunch one day and demands he tell her what’s going on with Akira. He bitterly replies “nothin’.” Mona shouts out in battle once that if Skull didn’t stop starin’ at Joker he was gonna get crit’ed again, which makes him so mad he ends up one-hit killin’ the next Shadow. Noir sighs dramatically, fondly, when she and Skull are on the sidelines and he agrees, starting to talk about how skilled Joker is, but Noir informs him she was looking at Queen instead (she giggles; he groans). Fox leans over in Mona’s backseat and tries to start a conversation about how beautiful Joker looks when he’s driving but Skull ends up choking on his own spit and Fox gracefully drops the topic. Ryuji takes Makoto to the gym and finds out she’s got her eyes set on another certain fluffy-haired third year, so thank god for that. He ends up falling off the treadmill when she asks about Akira, though, so he swears her to secrecy. Futaba sends him snapchat after snapchat of Akira whenever they’re together and Ryuji doesn’t respond, never freakin’ has, but Futaba just keeps sendin’ ‘em and doesn’t say a word when he screenshots it. 

If Akira’s noticed, though, it doesn’t show. At least Ryuji doesn’t think it does. It’s hard to tell; dude’s cryptic as hell, which drives him nuts, but also somehow makes him that much...cooler? Ugh.

It’s hard crushin’ on your best friend no matter who you are, but it’s ten times harder when your bestfriend is effortlessly charming, kind, courageous...the list could literally go on and on. Ryuji spends half his time in awe of Akira and the other half aggressively thinking of puppies and cookies and even effin’ Kamoshida’s face just to get his body to calm down when Akira’s orderin’ Shadows around in the metaverse.

I mean... _you need proper punishment?_ Who _says_ that?! Ryuji takes the frustration out on Shadows. It’s not perfect--he’s definitely had some interesting dreams about what he’d rather do--but it helps.

It’s also hard when your best friend is a dude, though, Ryuji’s realizing. He’s never liked a dude before, didn’t know he had it in him, and with it comes so many complications. Is this a thing for him now? Is he always gonna like dudes? His mom’ll likely love him no matter what, but what if she doesn’t? God, that’ll kill him. What if the school found out? Could they expel him for that? Shit, probably. And if they don’t, everyone’d definitely make fun of ‘im, or beat him up, or worse: go after Akira. Ryuji’s body boils with anger and cools with fear all in one moment. It’s not that he cares what people say--he’s never cared, not even when they were sayin’ nice things about ‘im--but he doesn’t like bein’ the center of attention. Local troublemaker is _also_ resident...er...gay? Ryuji shakes his head like the thought’ll fall out of his head. Why’s it have to be complicated? Why did it have to be Akira, of all people? He wills himself to get over this, to let it go. Ryuji’s not gay (well, at least not generally speaking, probly just for Akira); Akira likely isn’t either. Look at him. He’s probably had loads of girlfriends. Hell, he might even have some now; Ryuji’s not sure, they don’t talk about that too often, but c’mon! He’s gotta! Ryuji hates the way his stomach feels when he thinks about it, though. God _damn_ it.

“What’s wrong?” Akira asks across the table, noticing how Ryuji’s retreated into himself, how his face has pinched with worry.

Ryuji looks up with a start, into those effin’ gray eyes that somehow see everything. “N-nothin’!” He says quickly, “Just uh, just thinkin’ about school.” It’s not a lie, not exactly, and Ryuji’s pretty sure he could never actually lie to Akira anyway. His cheeks color pink and he wills himself to keep a neutral expression.

Akira chuckles softly, “What is that look on your face? Food not settling well?”

The color deepens. Damn, okay, so he shot for neutral and ended up with gassy. Geez, he needs to relax. It’s just _Akira_ for goodness sakes. Ryuji forces himself to picture the Akira that was lost and confused on the first day instead of the cool, confident one in front of him now (doesn’t work--he just ends up feeling sorry for the guy all over again). He tries again for a neutral face and Akira laughs but seems satisfied by the change. He picks up his chopsticks and twirls them over his hand as he looks down at his food. Without a word he tosses them in the air, eyes still searching for the next bite he’ll take, and catches them effortlessly when the come back down. This catches the eye of a couple girls at a nearby table and they look over, giggling and pointing. Somethin’ protective, perhaps even jealous, surges in Ryuji’s chest.

“Man, how do you do it?” Ryuji mumbles before he can stop himself.

“Do what?” Akira asks, head cocking to the side, mess of dark hair flopping with the movement. It’s cool. It’s _cute._

“Ugh,” Ryuji rolls his eyes, “ _That._ ” He gestures to Akira with a frustrated wave of his hand.

Akira smirks, “You just gestured to all of me.”

“W-well, yeah! Because all of you is like that.”

“Like _what_?” Akira insists.

“Just, I dunno. It’s like...god, you’re so freakin’ cool,” Ryuji admits. He can’t hold Akira’s eye contact at the end, his eyes turning down and away, blush stubborn on face. When Akira doesn’t respond after a second, his eyes flick up to him, worried he’s gone too far.

For a moment, a very quick and small moment, Akira’s facade wavers. Ryuji’s lucky to have caught it: the slight drop in his jaw, the faint (very faint) pink in his cheeks, his wide stare. Then he catches Ryuji’s gaze and it’s over, gone in an instant, like nothing ever happened. Instead Akira just smirks, running his fingers through his hair. He dips his head and looks up at Ryuji over the top of his glasses, his eyes holding something intense.

Ryuji’s heart flutters again. He’s a dead man.

 

 

_And I don’t know how it gets better than this_

_You take my hand and drag me head first_

_Fearless_  

 

“Race you,” Akira says suddenly, turning to Ryuji, playful glint in his eye. School’s just gotten out and Ryuji asked Akira to hangout, assuming they’d go get food or gym it up or something. Instead Akira said he had a different plan, one they had to use the train to get to.

“What? No,” Ryuji scoffs. He shoulders his way past a couple dawdling first years who squeak out an apology. He pointedly ignores the way Akira’s expression makes his whole body buzz.

“C’mon,” Akira urges. He reaches out to punch Ryuji lightly on the shoulder. Ryuji dodges it, looking straight ahead.

“No,” he insists. “S’busy. Besides, I dunno where we’re even going, man.”

“Can’t believe you’re turning me down. What happened to Shujin’s track star?” Akira teases. He leans into Ryuji this time, causing Ryuji to stumble to the side. He pushes back with greater force, hoping to knock Akira over, but Akira remains balanced. Effin’ figures.

“You know what happened,” grumbles Ryuji, and immediately Akira’s mouth sets into a hard line. Akira’s comment doesn’t hurt Ryuji’s feelings, not really, so he’s not sure why he said it. He flashes a quick smile at Akira to let him know it’s chill. Akira recovers quickly, in a second nodding solemnly, that shine still in his eyes.

“Oh, that’s right, he turned into a scaredy cat.”

Ryuji knows his buttons are too easy to push, but he can’t help it: “What?! Dude, no, I’m not _scared,_ I’m just not racin’ ya to the station.” They reach the front doors and step into the sunshine of the afternoon, the first sunny day this week. The warmth feels good on Ryuji’s skin; he raises his face to the rays and breathes in deep. He hooks his thumbs into the straps of his backpack and slowly lets the breath out.

Akira shrugs, his voice high and playful, “Fine, I see how it is. I mean, I’d be scared too, if I thought I was gonna lo-”

So Ryuji takes off, seeing an opening in the crowd of students on their way out of the school. His feet are quick, lightning quick, over the stairs. He hears Akira shout after him but it’s already muffled. He doesn’t look before crossing the street, just darts into the alley. He notices the ground has dried thanks to all the sun of the morning, thank god, so Ryuji’s less worried about slipping.

“Nice try! You showed me this shortcut, you know!” Akira’s voice is clear behind him and Ryuji’s heartbeat quickens. How did Akira get _this_ close already?! Ryuji breathes deep and thinks back to his track days, relying on his body’s muscle memory to carry him through. His arms pump at his sides; his feet are firm yet swift; his strides are long. Even the bad leg stays strong--there’s a slight pain just above the knee, but it’s dull and ignorable, so Ryuji keeps pace.

Ryuji’s eyes have to adjust once he gets out of the darker alley and back into sunlight. He stops for a second, afraid to run into anyone, when Akira darts past him. He smacks Ryuji lightly on the back of the head as he passes, genuine laugh bubbling out.

“Hey!” he calls after him, dark hair disappearing in the crowd of people. He huffs, annoyed, but skips into a run anyway. Where Ryuji might beat Akira in speed, Akira beats Ryuji in quick movements. He’s able to dodge people, move between them, slinking between a couple standing just a few feet apart. Ryuji manages to jostle into almost everyone, mumbling quick “sorry”s and “watch out”s and “oh come _on_ ”s, until finally they find themselves at the park across the street.

Akira’s still ahead of him, but the open space gives Ryuji the leg up he needs. Stamina and energy: two things Ryuji has an abundance of. In no time at all he’s at Akira’s heels, can hear his friend chuckling to himself, breath coming out heavy.

“Should’ve...stayed...in the...crowd,” he pants.

“You’re dead, delinquent,” Ryuji teases, his breathing even. Thank god for long distance.

“Not yet...I’m not...vulgar boy,” Akira’s eyes flash to Ryuji and he’s gotta know, Akira’s definitely gotta know that the way he says those words is 200% _not fair_ because it’s dark and his voice drops and Ryuji’s stomach twists so much he stumbles, feet stuttering under him. A single laugh erupts from Akira’s throat and _shit_ yep, he definitely knows, Ryuji’s gonna kill him. He falls a little further back thanks to the dirty play from Akira.

“You two!” a voice from the left. Both boys continue running but turn to see a police officer on a bike, pedaling towards them fast. “No running in the park!”

“What?!” Ryuji responds, “Since _when_?!”

“New ordinance! Running is dangerous to leisurely pedestrians! I order you to stop!”

Akira looks back at Ryuji with a wicked smile on his face. Ryuji knows that look: it’s a Joker look, a “fuck the system” look--he’s not gonna lie, he pictures it often cause it _does_ somethin’ to him. Akira takes a deep breath.

“C’mon,” Akira reaches back and grabs Ryuji’s hand. All the heat in Ryuji’s body rushes to that point of contact, his ears turning red, “Local troublemakers...got to make a name for themselves, right?”

He tugs Ryuji towards him and for a second Ryuji thinks that’s the end, that’s all there was to it, but for reasons he can’t freakin’ figure out Akira’s grip stays tight. In fact, it even seems to get tighter, and Ryuji’s tryin’ _real_ hard to focus on the fact they’re running from the police (park police, but still) and gotta get away but Akira’s hand is warm and softer than he thought it’d be and it just kinda feels like it fits.

Ryuji loses his breath. If you asked he’d tell you it’s from running, but he knows he’s got another few miles in him. He doesn’t lose it cause he’s tired.

Akira takes a sharp right and Ryuji stumbles again, that pain in his leg shooting up to his hip.

“Hey!” he protests, “A little warning, maybe!”

Akira’s eyes flash down to the leg and then back up to Ryuji. “Right, sorry.”

“You can’t get away!” The deep voice rings through the air, a lot louder this time. Ryuji curses under his breath, well aware they can’t outrun a bike, and it’s clear Akira’s thinking the same thing when he drags Ryuji back into the crowds. After running through traffic--and holy shit Akira’s recklessness is actually gonna kill them one day--and crossing the sidewalk, Akira shouts “In here!” and pulls them into a dark alley. Once in the alley his grip loosens and Ryuji’s hand falls, the loss of warmth making something twinge deep in Ryuji’s gut.

Ryuji runs another few steps forward before turning and slamming his back against the wall. He slumps against it, one part surprised he’s not as tired as he thought he’d be and one part realizin’ how long it’s been since he’s actually run like that. Akira comes next to him, further into the shadows, propping his arm on the wall. He leans forward, forehead resting on his arm, the other hand wiping the sweat off the back of his neck. Ryuji swallows dryly, watching the movement, the moisture, then presses his heels into the ground. He is _not_ gonna lose his cool here.

Their chests heave, taking in new air and expelling it almost immediately, unable to hold it for longer than a moment. Akira cocks his head to the side and looks up at Ryuji, eyes barely visible under the hair, and Ryuji gulps again. His face flushes with more than exhaustion; he’s been caught starin’-- _again_ \--and Akira smirks. He stands now, sliding his forearm across the wall until it rests above Ryuji’s shoulder. He moves slowly, like molasses, eyes steady on Ryuji. He pushes off the wall and presses his palm against the cool concrete, turn on his foot until he’s directly in front of Ryuji. When they breathe, their chests nearly touch. Ryuji’s heart threatens to escape outta his chest.

“D-dude,” he mumbles, caught between pushing Akira away and pulling him closer. God, if only the wall could swallow him whole.

“That was close,” Akira says in a single breath, air fanning over Ryuji. It tickles his collarbone and the goosebumps that rise are way too visible thanks to the damn tank top Ryuji chose to wear today. He curses Past Ryuji for being fond of such outerwear. Maybe he should start wearing the actual uniform after all? A turtleneck. Even in this heat. Yeah, definitely preferable.

Akira’s voice is low, like a whisper, but firm. Ryuji grits his teeth; he is _not_ gonna get turned on, not now. This is three hundred percent _not_ the time. _Imagine he’s that granny you helped the other day,_ Ryuji tells himself, _little wrinkly old lady._ He squeezes his eyes shut to help his imagination but that does nothin’ for the other senses: he can feel Akira’s body warmth when they’re this close, it radiatin’ off him like he’s the goddamn sun or some shit. He’s acutely aware of how close his hand is to his shoulder, to his neck, and he frantically pushes away the thought that Akira could wrap that hand around the back of his neck and pull him in. The scent of coffee and spices envelopes Ryuji and it really shouldn’t be a good mixture but somehow Akira pulls it off. Ryuji wants to punch him; why couldn’t his sweat stink like every other dude Ryuji knows?

“Yeah,” is all he can manage. It’s weak but at least his voice doesn’t crack.

Akira’s body tenses; Ryuji opens his eyes, feeling the change in body language. Akira’s head turns to look at the opening of the alley. Ryuji definitely does _not_ stare at the open skin of Akira’s neck nor does he itch to lick at the bead of sweat that rolls down and over the tendons that jut out (because that’s just gross and no way, _no way_ should he wantin’ to do that, nope).

“Well, technically we’re not in the clear yet. We’ll have to wait here for a few more minutes.” He turns back to Ryuji but Ryuji avoids eye contact, settling instead on a _very_ interesting speck of paint on the wall behind Akira.

Akira breathes out again and it fans over Ryuji’s face this time. When did Akira start towering over him? When did he get so close? If Ryuji stood up straight and stopped sliding down the wall he’d be too close to his face, too close to those--Ryuji hesitantly brings his eyes up to meet Akira’s gaze. The gray in his eyes is hidden in the shadows, making the pupils seem bigger, blown wide, which is equal parts terrifying and attractive. Akira bends his arm, bringing his body closer to Ryuji’s. Ryuji sucks in a breath and holds it.

“But what is there for two people to do in a dark alley?” Akira’s voice is so low, so quiet that Ryuji’s positive if he were an inch further away he wouldn’t be able to hear it. It’s not normal, that’s what it is, this is _not_ what two bros do when they’re runnin’ from the cops, this is definitely _some_ thin’ but holy hell is Akira hard to read--what’s he goin’ for, what’s he want? Ryuji can’t tell.

 

(It occurs to Ryuji, weeks later, that perhaps he was just dense.)

 

(Akira agrees.)

 

Turns out the thing to do in a dark alley is catch the police biker going by, realize there’s no need to hide any more, and freakin’ high tail it outta there before your best friend notices your super awkward boner. Akira meets him in the station moments later, eyebrow raised, hands in pockets, elbows loose at his sides. His body language _oozes_ casual because of effin’ course it does. Ryuji shoots for a casual laugh and a smooth “beat ya,” misses by a hundred miles and lands somewhere between loud-guffawing-bird and navy-boat-horn, but this is where Ryuji finds a moment to ask all the gods in the world to bless Akira because he doesn’t say anythin’ about it, just sighs softly and tugs Ryuji into the train by his elbow. 

Ryuji spends half the ride to the amusement park thinking about how nice it was to hold Akira’s hand. He spends the other half staring at it, hoping he can hold it again.

 

 

_And I don’t know why_

_But with you I’d dance_

_In a storm in my best dress_

_Fearless_

 

Ryuji tugs at his collar impatiently. 

“Why we gotta wear these monkey suits?” he complains.

“Sh,” Ann says, temper short.

“For once I’m with him,” Morgana grumbles, paw rising to scratch at the suffocating bowtie around his neck.

“Shhhh!” Ann insists, jabbing her elbow into Morgana’s side.

“How long is this friggin’ thing anyway?” Ryuji asks, leaning forward to look down the row at Makoto. They’d already been there for what felt like forever. His answer, though, comes directly from his right.

“He said it could take between one to three hours,” Akira says, tone evenly measured, and Ryuji catches the careful control he’s keeping. If he didn’t know any better he’d say Akira was gettin’ antsy too.

The Phantom Thieves are sitting in a large, grandeur auditorium on the south side of Tokyo inside Kosei. They’re closer to the back, having arrived later than planned when Futaba got anxious about the subway and almost didn’t come (it bothered no one that they were off schedule). Akira had gone in first, Ryuji right behind him. Ann was on Ryuji’s other side, but Morgana sat squished between the two; Ryuji being the small price to pay for getting to sit so close to Lady Ann. Haru was next to Ann, Futaba next to Haru, and Makoto was the bookend to the other side. She had a careful, protective arm around Futaba, who somehow had gotten away with wearing her normal clothes (Ryuji chalked it up to Makoto’s clear soft spot for the girl). The artwork on the wall is beyond stunning, a testament to the talent and intelligence of the students that walk its halls. They’d never been to Kosei--didn’t really have a reason to--until a few days ago when Yusuke let slip he was getting an award. He had reddened immediately, assuring everyone there was no obligation to come, but the team had fiercely insisted upon it.

Of course, once it was clear they were going, Yusuke quickly drew a list of “requirements” they had to follow if they were to attend. At first Ryuji was excited to hype his friend up, but the word “best dress” was on the list and Ryuji simply didn’t _do_ suits.

Ryuji also simply didn’t tell Makoto “no” once she decided on something for the team, though, so that’s how he ended up on a stiff wooden bench wearing a stiff suit.

“Ugh,” Ryuji groans, crossing his arms across his chest. The dress shirt bunches up at his shoulders and around his elbows, far too much material for Ryuji’s liking. It’s also freakin’ hot inside the auditorium and somehow the droning of the speaker just made it feel hotter. He can’t help suddenly tearing at the button around his wrist and rolling up the sleeves. There: that’s better.

“Hey!” Makoto snaps in a hushed whisper, leaning forward to glare at Ryuji, “Be quiet and be nice! We’re here to support our friend!”

“I, for one, am rather excited to see his art piece!” Haru claps quietly.

“Yeah yeah, me too,” Ryuji waves, “Just wish it didn’t take effin’ _forever_ to get to that part.”

A few minutes pass, the speaker still droning about something called “color theory” (sounds fake but okay) when Akira leans towards Ryuji.

“Hey,” he whispers, and Ryuji almost jumps. He’d been rubbing his face with his hands to distract from how suffocatin’ it felt to have his shirt buttoned up to the top, so he hadn’t noticed Akira invading his personal space. “Want to get out of here?”

“Uh, first: phrasing,” he whispers back, “And second: as much as I _do_ wanna jet, we don’t want to miss Yusuke’s thing!”

“We’ve been here for twenty minutes. I have it on good authority this speech takes another forty-five minutes.”

Ryuji ignores the way his stomach drops at the words “twenty minutes.” Jesus, it felt like years. “Who’d ya hear that from?”

Akira’s eyes flash to where a few students sit, his gaze seemingly landing on a student with long black hair and some sorta red clip in it. His smile is small but clear.

“Resources,” is the only answer Ryuji gets, and Ryuji has to stop himself from shootin’ jealousy daggers into the girl’s head with his eyes. C’mon, can’t be that big a deal. Just friends, probably. _So why’s he smilin’ like that?_

“So, what do you say?”

Ryuji snorts, “Pfft, okay, let’s say we have the time. S’not like Makoto’s gonna let us sneak away.”

Akira leans forward, “Psst! Makoto!” Ryuji leans back, watching Makoto carefully.

She leans and turns towards them, “What is it?”

“I’m getting a real weird metaverse vibe from something in the hall, probably in one of the classrooms.”

Ryuji snaps his head to the side, looking at Akira. His eyes flick to Ryuji and then back to Makoto, the twitch of a coming smile playing at his lips. He manages to keep his face serious, though, and eye contact intense.

Makoto frowns. “What do you think it is?”

“I hope nothing serious,” Haru says quietly.

“Really? I’m not getting anything…” Futaba says, pulling out her phone. Akira sends a quick and dirty glare at her that no one catches.

“I don’t know, but Arsene is seriously concerned.”

Her frown deepens. There’s a long pause and Ryuji starts to smirk. No way, _no way_ is this gonna work. Makoto’s class prez, Queen of the metaverse, and sharp as hell. Akira’s good but he ain’t that good. Plus Futaba’s totally gonna blow his cover.

“Hm...fine, go check it out, but be back quickly.”

Ryuji balks. His jaw literally drops, chin bumping into the high collar of his shirt.

“I’ll need support so I’m taking Ryuji.”

Makoto looks like she might protest, but she just sighs. Ryuji’s pretty sure he’s gonna break his neck from how quickly he looks between the two.

“Fine, just go,” she says as she dismisses them with a wave of her hand.

“There’s nothing show up here at all...” Futaba mumbles, tapping furiously on her phone, eyebrows furrowed. Then there’s Akira’s hand again, grabbing Ryuji’s wrist, and he pulls him out of the pew.

When they stand, Akira’s hand glides easily from wrist to Ryuji’s palm. He tries not to overthink it, just holds on and feels that familiar rush of warmth shoot through his body. He’s been trying not to overthink lately. It’d been a week since the day the two raced and nothin’ had really changed, not really, but Ryuji’d gotten tired of fightin’ himself. His brain liked to keep things simple: overthinking shit was not his forte and honestly he’d just gotten exhausted tryin’ to fight the fact he liked a dude. ‘Sides, it wasn’t so much a dude as it was Akira, who was basically a whole ‘nother class, basically an entity in his own right. He liked Akira, full throttle, and it was like ridin’ a motorcycle without a helmet. It felt dangerous, scary, intimidating, but it was also nice, and comforting, and thrilling. He was still pretty sure Akira didn’t like him back--he _was_ just a bro after all--but that was okay too.

And if he gets to hold his hand and be his best bro, then it’s more of a win than a loss, so he’ll take it.

Akira pulls him through hallways and it feels a lot like that afternoon. “Better not race me again or you’ll lose,” Ryuji jokes, laughing lightly.

“I saved your ass, don’t even lie,” Akira shoots back, but the smile on his face comes easy.

“Sure,” Ryuji rolls his eyes, “Whatever helps ya sleep at night, dude.”

The two come across a window and Akira stops short, dropping Ryuji’s hand to press his fingertips against the window. The window is cool in comparison to his body heat, little foggy fingerprints appearing on the glass. Outside the rain pours: back to the early summer usual. Ryuji sends Ann a telepathic “thank you” for forcing him to bring his umbrella after he argued before they left that it wasn’t raining so he didn’t need it.

“Damn,” Akira breathes, “I wanted to go into the garden out there. Seemed really cool. Yusuke told me the sculpting and carving students decorate it with their own projects.”

  
Ryuji looks from the window to Akira. His face is oddly expressive, frown evident on his face. His eyes are wide and genuinely sad; Ryuji doesn’t think he’s seen this look on Akira before and it kind of breaks his heart. 

“Let’s go anyway,” he says, flashing Akira a toothy grin.

“Hm?” Akira absentmindedly faces Ryuji, “Outside?”

“Yeah, why not?”

“I know you got hit in the head in Mementos yesterday but c’mon,” Akira teases, “It’s raining.”

“So?”

“ _So_ we don’t have our umbrellas. And we’re dressed nicely; we don’t want to ruin the clothes.”

Ryuji shrugs, “I don’t like mine that much anyway.”

Akira frowns, “Hey, I bought that specifically for you.”

Ryuji’s face flushes in a blush. Now that they’re not running through the halls, Ryuji has an opportunity to really see what Akira looks like in his suit. He figured Akira would buy somethin’ like his metaverse outfit, but instead he opted for a freakin’ _bowtie_ of all the dumbass things to wear (god, it’s impossibly cute the little shit). His shirt is tucked neatly into his gray trousers that sit loose and low on his hips (goddammit, _shut up brain_ ) and the suspenders he had pulled over his shoulders now hang at his hips. Ryuji wants to smile, wants to think it’s cause they both know that’s how Ryuji wears _his_ school suspenders, but it’s prolly just a coincidence. In short: Akira looks damn good dressed nice.

Ryuji on the other hand is fairly certain he looks like a circus clown. The clothes sit on him awkwardly: white dress shirt, vest that he’s _pretty_ sure is too tight, pants snug on his hips (Ann forced the belt. He couldn’t argue. Didn’t dare). He’s itchin’ to take it all off, finally get in somethin’ loose and comfy that didn’t make his body look more awkward than it already did. Geez, how could Ryuji ever compare to this guy?! Akira’d have to be seriously lowerin’ his standards if he ever dated Ryuji.

“Let’s just do it,” Ryuji says after a moment. “What’s stoppin’ us besides dumb, itchy clothes?” There’s a beat, then Ryuji asks: “You scared?”

Akira’s face turns wicked in a split second. Ha, Ryuji knew a challenge would get him.

“Follow me,” Akira says, voice low, and together they run to the garden’s entrance. They step out under the awning and the world comes alive before them; faint voice of the speaker that drifted through the halls fades and all they can hear is the rain pattering into the garden. Kosei must be enchanted or some shit because Ryuji can’t even hear the city noises; it’s just the rain, the rain and Akira’s soft breathing at his side.

  
Ryuji steps out into the rain first, eager to let loose a little. The rain soaks his shoulders first, then his hair stops catching the moisture and drips down onto his forehead. He quickly unbuttons the vest and opens it, then moves for the buttons at his neck. Once those are done he lets out the biggest sigh of relief, feelin’ like he can finally breathe again. 

“C’mon man, water’s great!” Ryuji shouts at Akira, laughing. Akira just chuckles and shakes his head, smiling that little smile he usually has whenever he talks to Ryuji. Ryuji thought it was somethin’ like “this dumb idiot,” but not meant in a mean way. Kinda like his mom when Ryuji was little and would shout loud, embarrassing things at the park and okay, probably shouldn’t be comparin’ Akira to his mom, so he’s gonna stop right there.

Akira saunters into the rain slowly, body like syrup drippin’ out of a bottle. It takes nearly no time for his curls to frizz up in a hilarious(ly cute) fashion and even less time for Akira to let out a laugh from deep in his belly. It’s a laugh Ryuji hasn’t heard before; somethin’ about it seems a little more carefree, a little more reckless.

“Let’s go explorin’, this garden’s huge!” Ryuji says, reaching out for Akira and this time _he_ pulls _him_ along. A few moments later he realizes he’s holding on to Akira’s hand, but he aggressively fights sayin’ somethin’ that’ll ruin it, just blushes deeply and pulls Akira a little faster.

They stay out there for half an hour, running through the garden in the rain. They play hide and seek, they play tag, they stop and look at the sculptures, they stop and look at each other...Ryuji’s pretty sure he could’ve spent the rest of his life in that garden, just him and Akira, drenched and wild and free. In that garden they forgot about the shitty adults, they forgot about the burdens, the public, the problems, the pain, the fear, the regret. They forgot about it all and just _existed._ By the end, their suits are totally ruined, but neither of them care. They’d take a ruined suit any day if it meant they got this feelin’ with it too.

They sneak back into the auditorium just as the speech is finishing up. This time they elect to stand at the back, leaning on each other and giggling into each other’s shoulders about dumb shit. As students get up to accept awards, they clap politely, but Akira keeps narrating what the headmaster is saying to the students as they walk past. Ryuji has to bite his lip so hard it bleeds to keep from laughin’ out loud.

In the row the Thieves are sitting in, it’s clear Makoto’s anxious and pissed they’re not back yet. She keeps twistin’ round to stare at the entrance, but the shadows near the door are so dark she can’t see them standing there. Akira goes from narrating the headmaster to narrating Makoto’s inner thoughts and Ryuji’s pretty sure he pees his pants a little.

Finally, after another half hour of students receiving awards, they hear Yusuke’s name get called. Ryuji lurches forward into the light, dripping endlessly onto the floor as he goes. Yusuke stands slowly and walks elegantly, all graceful, towards his award.

“Yeah Inari!” Ryuji shouts, fist thrusting into the air. Yusuke’s steps stutter and he gasps, turning to look at Ryuji with surprise. There’s an awkward pause--Ryuji suddenly realizes that no one else has cheered and _shit,_ this is why he shouldn’t be allowed at formal functions!--but then Akira’s jogging up beside him cheering loudly and clapping too.

“I know him!” Akira shouts, grinning.

Makoto seems distraught by their damp appearance for a second, but then Futaba jumps onto the pew and shouts, “YOU’RE MEDIOCRE INARI!” with booming applause. That gets Haru to giggle and shout, “The piece is beautiful!” Soon Ann and Morgana are joining in (no one notices the cat, but they sure hear him) and finally Makoto just rolls her eyes and lets out a deep and authoritative “WHOO!” that gets everyone going in another cheer.

Yusuke’s blush looks dark against his pale skin, but the embarrassed smile on his face shows his appreciation for his friends. He walks proudly to the award, takes it, and then beams at his friends.

Later Futaba elbows Akira in the gut and says, “there was nothing, was there?” and Akira only smiles back. She sends him a snapchat of Ryuji in the suit that he screenshots.

 

 

_Well you stood there with me in my doorway_

_My hands shake_

_I’m not usually this way_

Fuckin’ hell, how long had it been now? _Too long,_ Ryuji thinks bitterly. One of these days his mouth was gonna betray him--they were already on shaky terms--and he was just gonna blurt it all to Akira and probly just die right then and there.

Ryuji’s feelings for Akira had been gettin’ a little...intense ever since Yusuke’s award show night. He kept effin’ dreaming of what Akira looked like in the rain, how nice his laugh sounded, what his hand felt like when he held on a little too long. Also that effin’ suit. When he wasn’t sleep-dreamin’ about Akira, he was day-dreamin’ about him. His focus in school was bad enough without feelin’ like he _missed_ the guy who was like, twenty feet away and who he had seen just a few hours prior. Now when he saw Akira comin’ for him after school it was all he could do not to sigh “finally” and throw himself into Akira’s arms. It was getting ridiculous.

The other thieves agreed, which was the cherry on this already embarrassin’ sundae. When they both got colds from bein’ out in the rain so long, Makoto scolded them for that _and_ Ryuji got a second scolding when he told her he didn’t make a move. Ann kept texting Ryuji magazine articles about “How To Land Your Dream Boy in Five Easy Steps!” and he’s pretty sure she’s kidding because the advice is seriously terrible but also Ryuji doesn’t have much experience so he’s started reading them anyway. The added scrutiny of Haru, Morgana, Yusuke, and Futaba doesn’t exactly help either; Ryuji doesn’t like feelin’ like he’s being watched or evaluated, so every time he’s interacted with Akira while another friend was nearby has ended awkward, disjointed, and nothin’ like their usual flow.

Ryuji wonders if that’s why Akira’s asked him to hang out, just them two, today. They go back to the amusement park and Ryuji can’t help jokin’ about how they’re gonna look like a couple again (because, as previously mentioned, his mouth just does _not_ obey) and this time Akira says “good” which thankfully gets Ryuji to shut up. They ride the ferris wheel, and instead of sittin’ on opposite sides of the crate Akira sits right next to him. Ryuji thinks he should protest, tongue itchin’ to joke about how gay it is, but in all honesty he doesn’t mind. Things had been weird lately and Akira was clearly feelin’ it too. It felt nice to just sit together, sharing warmth and space, existing like they did back in the garden.

Akira then treats Ryuji to ramen, so basically Ryuji would marry the guy if the opportunity arose (his ears suddenly turn red as the thought arises. Akira notices but doesn’t say anything). The dinner takes longer than normal though because they can’t stop talkin’! Ryuji’s always liked this about Akira: from the get-go they could always just talk. Didn’t matter if it was serious Thief business or about how weird Mr. Hiruta’s hair looked that day. Sometimes they talked about other kinds of serious stuff, like once Ryuji told him--really told him--about his dad. That was tough, but Akira’s kind eyes made it easy. Akira made everythin’ easy.

As the dinner goes on, Ryuji’s body starts buzzin’ excitedly. It’s been doing this a lot lately: nerves all electric under his skin, somethin’ like power currents flowing through his body. At first he thought it had to do with Kidd, but he asked once and Kidd said, “No, that’s all _you.”_ Then Ryuji thought it was the anxiety again and cursed himself for not refillin’ his prescription when he was supposed to. When he stands at the pharmacy, though, he realizes that he doesn’t feel anxious. He’s not nervous--well, he is, but not like how it normally feels. This feels sorta like anticipation, like how stunt dudes and ladies must feel just before they do one. It feels like opportunity. Like...he doesn’t know. Somethin’ amazing.

Akira insists on walking Ryuji home. It’s dumb, they both know he doesn’t need an escort, but Akira calls him “m’lady” and tips an imaginary fedora which gets them goin’ into another round of laughter and before Ryuji knows it they’re both on the same train. Secretly Ryuji’s pleased. It means more time with Akira, more conversation, more gray eyes glinting in the light, more dumb smirks and chuckles, more floppy frizzy hair all over the place. Akira’s never walked him home before, Ryuji realizes, and actually has never seen his place. Should Ryuji invite him in? His cheeks turn pink at the thought, like they’re in some sorta dumb rom-com. Nah, maybe another time when it’s less weird. He doesn’t want to give Akira the wrong impression.

Well, technically the right impression, but Ryuji’s sure it wouldn’t go over well.

Ryuji starts to feel embarrassed when they step back out onto the street, glancing at the rundown buildings of his neighborhood, but Akira gasps and points at a cheap video game store across the street and says, “Dude, we gotta get some games there!” and immediately all negative feelings drift away. The store’s closed right now, unfortunately, but Akira says simply they can just come back tomorrow. Ryuji balks. Tomorrow? They were gonna hang out again?

For the first time in what feels like weeks, Ryuji sees color tint the tips of Akira’s ears. “I mean, only if you want to.”

Shit! Wait, no, that’s not what he meant. “N-no! I want to! Ha, you know I love our bro time. I just figured you’d be sick of me by now,” Ryuji jokes, hoping that eases things. Akira’s face twists, though, and it’s clear that it doesn’t.

“Right, _bro time_ …” he mumbles, stuffing his hands in his pockets. Akira falls silent the rest of the walk to Ryuji’s front door, which isn’t exactly unusual for him, but Ryuji feels like it’s cause of somethin’ he did. His body starts buzzing again.

Ryuji stops to fish his keys out of his pocket, which is not an easy feat when he’s got gum wrappers, receipts, a...chocolate...bar (?), and his phone in there. Naturally the keys are at the bottom.

“Hey, I meant what I said,” Ryuji says suddenly. Akira, who’d been looking blankly at the potted plant in front of the door (shit, Ryuji forgot to water it this morning) looks up suddenly. His eyes are wide, lips slightly parted, face soft and blank. Ryuji curses inwardly. Why’d he have to fall for the freakin’ prettiest dude around?! Akira probly had tons of people just linin’ up. Ugh, Ryuji could never compete.

“Hm?” Akira asks, lips now pressing together.

“I still wanna hang out tomorrow,” Ryuji says--ah, there’s the keys. He pulls them out and about a hundred other things come with, so he groans and bends down to gather them up. “I was just surprised, s’all.”

“Oh, right,” Akira’s tone starts off light but tapers at the end, his voice dipping into something sad, “Well, glad to hear you’re still game.”

Ryuji frowns, stuffing the trash back into his pocket. Somethin’s still not right.

“No, dude, I’m serious,” he says, standing and turning to Akira. The sun has begun to set, coloring the sky in purple and orange hues. It casts a beautiful glow over the city and Akira practically shines before him, all of his features highlighted in the warmth and light. Geez, Ryuji should really take a picture. This is probably the art Yusuke’s been lookin’ for.

“I like hangin’ out with you,” Ryuji says sternly. Akira cocks his head to the side, still a little confused, but smiles. The smile doesn’t reach his eyes, Ryuji notices.

“I know that, I like hanging out too.”

“No, ugh,” Ryuji runs a frustrated hand through his hair, “You’re not gettin’ it. I don’t feel obligated to hang with you, you know that right?”

Akira presses his lips together again. “Yeah, I know that.”

Ryuji feels compelled to continue because despite all the glow and the light and the warmth, Akira’s eyes aren’t bright like they normally are. It bothers him. Akira’s the brightest goddamn thing he’s ever seen; did _he_ snuff that out? Was it somethin’ he said?

“Today was like, the best day I’ve had in awhile, alright?” Ryuji begins and shit, he can already feel his mouth gettin’ away from him, “When you texted me yesterday about hangin’ today I literally smiled, dude. I even cancelled plans I had with Futaba cause I wanted to hang with you more! You’re my best friend, y’know? You’re like...I dunno, if it weren’t for you, all those people we’ve helped would still be in rotten places. Who knows what Kamoshida woulda done to Ann, or what could’ve happened to Mishima and Shiho. Makoto’d still be goin’ around thinking she’s a pawn instead of a queen, Yusuke’d still be gettin’ used by that piece of shit, Haru would have been effin’ sold off...ugh, it all makes me sick. Futaba would still be blaming herself, Morgana would still be locked in Kamoshida’s palace, and all the other people who were gettin’ hurt, like all the ones in Mementos, they’d still be in those places.

“So, yeah, man, I like hangin’ out with you. I like it cause without you this place would still be the same ol’ shithole it’s always been.”

Ryuji takes a deep breath, fully aware he’s rambled, cheeks pink because of it. God, why couldn’t he just hold his tongue?! Akira was so good at that. Akira chose his words carefully; he didn’t efifn’ fly off the handle.

Akira takes a step closer to Ryuji. A big step. Like, if Ryuji reached out it would take no time at all for him to make contact. The buzz in Ryuji’s body grows into a soft shake. He shivers all over, hands shaking at his sides.

“And you?”

“And me what?”

Akira’s eyes, the ones that had been dull a moment ago, are suddenly fierce and fiery. “And _you,_ ” he insists, “What about you? You were saying how our friends have gotten into better situations because of me--an erroneous statement, by the way--but you never said if I made _your_ life any easier. Have I done anything for you? Anything at all?” His voice drops into a whisper near the end. It makes Ryuji’s heart twist.

“S-shit, man! Of course you did!” he laughs once, loud and nervous because this is dangerous territory, this is where his mouth can _really_ get away from him. “You were the first person to freakin’ _talk_ to me in like...weeks, dude! After I attacked Kamoshida the whole school pretended like I didn’t exist. It was a _nightmare._ You know me, I’m a talker, so it was really hard not havin’ anyone to talk to. My team abandoned me, my friends abandoned me, teachers abandoned me. I was so freakin’ lonely, Akira. When we got captured and you risked your life just to save mine...it didn’t make sense to me. Hell, it _still_ doesn’t make sense to me, why you’re still friends with a dumbass like me, but I’ll take it dude. I’ll take it and run with it because when I’m with you it’s like...well, it’s like I said before. It’s like I’m free, man, I just feel so freakin’ _free._ I wanna be around you all the time. Not to be weird or anythin’, but you kinda feel like home.”

_You pull me in and I’m a little more brave_

Akira steps closer and now they’re _really_ close. Too close. Ryuji can smell him again, that tantalizing scent of coffee and spices. He can see him, the soft color on his cheeks, the flecks of color in those gray eyes, how his hair twists in every direction. He can feel him, hands now gripping Ryuji’s wrists tightly, those hands so warm and firm. Ryuji eyes glance at Akira’s lips, soft and pink, and Ryuji actually thinks he’s gonna faint. b

“When _I_ risked _my_ life?” Akira scoffs, voice just above a whisper, “You were the one who lunged at the Shadows and told me to run even though it meant certain death...that was the moment, I think, for me at least.”

Ryuji’s brain tries desperately to understand but there’s so much coffee in the air, the sharp scent of spice and curry, and Akira’s hands are traveling up Ryuji’s arms leaving a wake of fire and electricity and _god_ he’s buzzing all over, shaking and swallowing dryly and the brain and tongue aren’t cooperating _at all_ \--

“Think for what?” Ryuji manages, tongue heavy, voice thick. “What moment?”

“The moment I…” Akira’s eyes drop to Ryuji’s lips, then back to Ryuji’s eyes, then back to his lips. Ryuji’s heart practically explodes in his chest. Akira’s tongue darts out and licks his bottom lip. Ryuji stays mesmerized. “...moment I knew you were going to mean something to me. Something big. Something special.”

“W-what are you tryin’ to say, man?” Ryuji’s full on trembling now, Akira’s hands now holding his face, fingers intertwining into his hair. He can see it, he can see it all right now, reflected in Akira’s eyes, every single moment: the dungeon, Arsene, Kidd, the ramen shop, track team, palace after palace, backing each other up, the alley, the garden, the endless span of time that stretches before them, impossibly open, impossibly possible, impossibly great and vast and somehow no longer terrifying, somehow spanning with wild abandon.

Akira chuckles and his laugh colors Ryuji, fills in everything that wasn’t already glowing in the sunset sky. “This,” he whispers, and leans in.

 

_It’s the first kiss_

Ryuji eyes stay open for a fraction of a second, his body still and nervous, but then his eyes flutter closed and he melts.

 

_It’s flawless_

His hands curl between their bodies, gripping Akira’s shirt and pulling him closer, further into him, brain screaming _more more more._

 

_Really something_

Everything’s burning, burning so slow and hot and warm and bright and perfect, so perfect, just Akira and his lips and bodies and hands and-- _no,_ no, nonono he’s pulling away.

 

But then he’s smiling, and their lips are still touching, and he giggles. Akira giggles. Oh god, Ryuji’s dead in the water.

 

_It’s fearless_

 

* * *

 

 

_Cause I don’t know how it gets better than this_

The group throws a party when they find out. An actual party. It’s hella embarrassing and Ryuji’s face never goes back to normal, stays a steady shade of red the whole time, but Akira also never lets go of his hand and that’s nice too. Ryuji finds out Akira really likes seein’ him in that suit and makes a point to suffer through it just for the heavy-lidded stare it earns him. He also finds out Akira’s been bi this whole time. Go figure.

 

_You take my hand and drag me headfirst_

It takes some getting used to. Ryuji’s never been in a relationship, but whenever he’s imagined it, it’s been with a girl, so he’s gotta make some changes to his perception of shit. Akira firmly tells him one afternoon “no one has to be _The Girl_ ” and as soon as he says Ryuji realizes how dumb it sounds. He doesn’t mind learning and opening up, though, and everyone takes it a lot better than expected. His mom somehow knew before he did but hey, guess that’s a mom for ya. Kawakami warns them to keep the PDA off school grounds, her voice scary, but then she smiles and whispers she’s happy for them and it’s kinda weird to see her bein’ nice but Ryuji’s not gonna challenge it. Sojiro breathes a sigh of relief that neither of them were gonna go for Futaba (which they protested with “she’s like a sister, Boss!”) and then keeps tryin’ to give advice but it always lands a little awkwardly--probably how advice from a dad should sound. It takes a couple weeks for Ryuji to hold Akira’s hand in public, out on the streets of Tokyo, but he realizes most people don’t give two shits about teenagers. For once he’s grateful, happy to ignore the world and focus only on Akira.

 

_Fearless_

 

They compliment each other, they always have. Sorta like yin and yang, but better, because they weren’t opposites. They were in sync as much as they weren’t, always on the same page even if they were readin’ different books. Ryuji knows that doesn’t make much sense, but that’s kinda how it feels: Akira’d be in the other room, playing a video game, when Ryuji would be downstairs touchin’ up his roots. He’d drop his comb, hands soaked in bleach and dye and three hundred percent unable to reach it beneath the toilet, and then he’d hear Akira’s feet pattering down the steps to get the comb. It was kinda weird, kinda awesome. 

For the first time in his life Ryuji feels full. Akira reminds him to take care of himself, to admit when his leg was botherin’ him in Mementos or to stop apolgizin’ for gettin’ healed in battle. Akira holds him through nightmares; Ryuji plays with Akira’s hair through his. They kiss on sidewalks, in alleys (oh _boy_ do they kiss in alleys), on futons and too-small beds. Ryuji’s the one taking Akira snapchats and sending them to Futaba now (he still saves them to his phone, though, and he cycles through them as backgrounds). It’s new, it’s strange, it’s great and vast and incredible. It’s reckless. It's fearless.

 

_With you I’d dance_

_In a storm in my best dress_

_Fearless_

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> I'VE BEEN IN SUCH A WRITING SLUMP ONLY A SONGFIC COULD CURE ME.  
> If you follow The Morning, The Moon, and the Typhoon dsklfja;wekj i'm so sorry i promise I'm working on it, pls forgive 
> 
> come talk to me on tumblr at goodestboyryuji !!!! I love ppl I love p5 I love my bright and shiny boy


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